


Bit by Bit

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, First Time, M/M, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Writing on the Body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 12:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth and Neal are terrible tricksters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bit by Bit

Peter's not entirely sure how he ended up tied to his own bed, naked, spread eagled, with Elizabeth smugly standing over him and Neal kneeling on the bed smirking, suit not the slightest bit rumpled.

Well, he could be sure, if his brain would realign, but there's something about Elizabeth's mouth and a few glasses of red wine...

And Neal's smirking.

"What are you looking at?" Peter asks, trying to be sharp, but his air of authority is somewhat reduced by his... compromising position. Neal grins and twirls a pen around and around in his fingers, like a miniature baton. When he uncaps it, Peter realizes it's not a pen at all, but a fine-pointed black marker. Neal's tongue slips over his lips and Peter wonders how this isn't in some way a violation of Neal's agreement with the bureau. The anklet, of course, flashes reassuring green as Neal's trouser leg slips up, and Peter closes his eyes for a moment and sighs.

When he opens them again, there's a cool, wet stroke of something on his left hip, and Neal's squinting at Peter's skin, concentrating. Peter looks down and there, upside-down to his view, is the name "Elizabeth." In Peter's handwriting. Neal gives him that triumphant six-year-old boy grin and Peter's expression hardens.

"Nice touch."

Elizabeth laughs and steps around to the side of the bed, sitting down and stroking Peter's cheek. "Relax, sweetheart," she coos, with just the slightest hint of mocking. "He's been looking forward to this all week."

"Co-conspirators," Peter grumbles. Elizabeth, too, is fully dressed, except for her stocking-clad feet, heels discarded at the bottom of the stairs. Her fingers smooth over his brow and he sighs again. Neal writes his own name on Peter's left hip, then bends down and _oh holy mother of God._

Elizabeth smirks and brushes her fingers over his lips. His mind sidetracked, his mouth opens automatically, sucks a finger obediently. Neal looks up like he knows _everything_, and how Neal can manage to look so self-satisfied with his mouth full of Peter's cock is absolutely beyond him.

"That's it," Elizabeth murmurs, stroking Peter's hair with her other hand. It could feel like a betrayal, letting Neal in on this facet of their relationship, but somehow it's not. Somehow it feels like he's been there all along. The marker begins to move again, above the two names, just below Peter's navel, and he lets out a low moan as Neal's tongue does something fantastic. It's no small triumph he feels when Neal's hand shakes, just a fraction, and finishes a "y" with a wobbly tail. Later, in the mirror, alone in the bathroom, he'll look at the backwards writing and it'll be that little shake that does it for him, the slight imperfection in the words, "Property of." He'll think back to Neal's lips around his cock and his hand on Peter's hip and Elizabeth's fingers in his mouth and though he knows he's lost to them, he'll find some solace in that shaky black-ink tell.

Neal's a professional. It feels good to chip at that control.


End file.
